Neil Shines Bright as a Diamond on this Christmas Album

I am one of those people who could listen to Christmas music all year long. I always await with happy anticipation the time – which seems to get earlier every year – in which it is acceptable to play those Yuletide favorites and, better yet, have them blasting at me every time I go shopping or out to eat. I’ve met only a few Christmas songs I can’t stand: that new techno remix of White Christmas, The Holiday Season, The Cherry Tree Carol and a handful of others. But most I embrace whole-heartedly, and there are a few Christmas albums I simply must listen to this time of year lest I feel distinctly unChristmassy. Paul and Mary. The Chipmunks. John Denver... and the Muppets. Garrison Keillor. More recently, American Idol and Clay Aiken. Throw in Art Garfunkel and Veggie Tales and I’m pretty much good to go... as long as I also have this, the Neil Diamond Christmas album, which, like Peter Paul and Mary’s holiday special, has enchanted on video on PBS in the past. And so, without further ado (and shameless linking to my other Christmas reviews), I give you Neil.

Immanuel (O Come) / We Three Kings Of Orient Are - This medley is slow and solemn with soaring choral participation in Immanuel. The whole thing has a slightly Hasidic air about it, and it’s just a very nice rendition of both classics; in fact, while Garrison boasts my favorite version of We Three Kings, Neil’s may be my favorite version of Immanuel.

Silent Night - It’s pretty hard to mess up this one. Neil gives it a straight reading, but the choir comes in again to provide some majestic harmonies.

Little Drummer Boy - The percussion, throbbing bass and overall electric sound on this one is very cool. Until I heard the David Bowie / Bing Crosby version a few years back, this was my favorite rendition of the sweet song about a boy giving Jesus a simple but sincere gift, and it still holds a very special place in my heart.

Santa Claus Is Comin' To Town - Neil’s really rockin’ out on this one. Somebody’s having a really rollicking time on the drums, and throw in the guitar and the enthusiastic chorus for one of the most energetic renditions of this classic I’ve ever heard. A harmonica solo midway adds to the fun.

The Christmas Song - This one has a smooth lounge-singer sound to it and features the keyboard in prominence. It’s not really one of my favorites – maybe it’s jealousy over the fact that I don’t have an open fire to roast chestnuts on or irritation over his pronunciation of “reindeer” as “reindeers” – but there’s a nifty sax solo toward the end that augments the presentation.

Morning Has Broken - The chorus is back to help Neil out with this one, “oohing” along in the beginning and providing lusher harmonies as the song progresses. Though I really think of this as an Easter song – certainly a song indicative of spring – it’s my favorite hymn that isn’t a Christmas carol, so I won’t complain about its inclusion here. Besides, they say Jesus was probably actually born in the spring anyway. My favorite version of the song is Art Garfunkel’s, but this one is still really nice.

Happy Christmas (War Is Over) - This is the first place I encountered John Lennon’s idealistic masterpiece – just as stirring as Imagine – and I absolutely love it. It starts out with just a chorus of angelic kiddies and some salt-shaker percussion before Neil takes the first verse by himself, and it builds in volume and intensity, helped along first by some beautifully simple piano accompaniment, then majestic percussion, resonant guitar and the re-introduction of the kids, augmented by an adult chorus. You can tell Neil really believes what he is singing; there is an intensity lacking on any other track. The real beauty of the song, though, is in the children sweetly crooning the counter-melody (“War is over if you want it, war is over now”) under Neil’s passionate vocals. Quite possibly my favorite track.

White Christmas - Unless this one is. I’m such a fan of Christmas music in general, and I’ve heard enough that in many cases I have a favorite version of songs I’ve heard covered dozens of times. Sorry, Bing, but Neil gets my vote for all-time best version of this song. He starts it off with the little-used introductory verse before launching into a doo-wop rendition. His own singing is fairly straight, aside from his “I-I-I-I” at the beginning of every other line and a hammy spoken verse towards the middle, a la Alvin in the Chipmunks’ version of It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas, but those guys in the background make this song with their “I-I-I”s and “doo-wa”s. I especially love the guy with the super-deep voice. Just a really fun song.

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen - The doo-woppers are back here for an a capella treatment of this carol. It’s a very short stop, but very nice – though Simon and Garfunkel take the cake for me on this one. (Since they have a different title, though, I suppose I could technically count this as my favorite version of this carol…)

Jingle Bell Rock - Another short one, this is almost as fun and rollicking as Santa Claus is Coming to Town.

Hark The Herald Angels Sing - Neil makes good use of the chorus once again. This sounds like something you would hear at a Christmas Eve service at a church with a very large choir and a very impressive organ. Both elements are the stars of this number.

Silver Bells - When I was little, this was my favorite song, Christmas or otherwise. Neil’s guitar-soaked version has a nice dreamy feel to it, and the chorus is back to help him out. The nicest part of it for me, though, is the instrumental portion over which he recalls his youth and the joy these bells brought him.

You Make It Feel Like Christmas - A Neil Diamond original. I find it a bit amusing given the fact that he’s Jewish, but I suppose chances are he celebrates Christmas to some extent anyway. Obviously he has a hearty respect for the holiday. It’s interesting, though, that Peter Paul and Mary have two Hanukkah songs on their album and he doesn’t have any. This is just a nice love song in which the speaker compares every moment he spends with his wife to the ecstasy of Christmas morning. It’s always nice to have at least one song that you won’t find elsewhere, and this one is a great addition to the Christmas canon.

O Holy Night - My favorite Christmas song. Neil gives the song the majestic treatment it deserves, starting out quiet and mysterious and building intensity with the thrilling chorus and throbbing percussion behind him. A wonderful rendition, though my favorite presentation of this particular song remains the quiet and pristine recitation by a second-grader at the elementary school I attended. If Art Garfunkel ever covers the song, though, I may change my mind.

Well, there you have it. This Diamond has never gleamed so brilliantly for me as in this Christmas album. If you’re unfamiliar, do yourself a favor and pick up a copy. It’s a holiday treat that’s practically perfect in every way.

You'll Never Look at a Wardrobe the Same Way Again...

The world could use a little bit more Magic. That’s what I think, and that’s what C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien thought when they wrote their respective masterpieces. For three years in a row, I got to see a sweeping cinematic interpretation of Tolkien’s epic, which I treasure more than any other. Last year, a dry spell. No lifelong friends, breathed into life anew from the deepest reaches of my childhood, to sustain me. A cold year indeed. But after a long winter, Middle-earth’s companion has come to join its majestic sibling, and Christmas has come at last. If the rest of the audiences were as enchanted as I was, The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe is only the first in a long and lustrous series, seven to match the number in the exploits of the boy wizard whose name need not be mentioned - a sacred number, and perhaps I should clarify that I do not mean Lewis is the good to Rowling’s evil, but rather a fellow spinner of tales so absorbing and spiritually stimulating they both invite and defy adaptation. But I have known Lewis much longer, and the glory of his natural world calls to me with more resonance than the Gothic surroundings in which young Mr. Potter finds himself. This is a film that is an event, a milestone and a beckoning. Embrace the child within that longs to crack open that wardrobe door and explore the world beyond - a world free of all the distractions and impurities of our own. Embrace the land of Narnia.

It is always difficult to adapt a book into a movie; the more beloved the source, the more likely you are to offend with your departures, though there is likely to be a large group of people who will see the film even if they are determined to hate it. The Chronicles of Narnia have a passionate following, as director Andrew Adamson and screenplay writer Ann Peacock clearly knew. How to translate the books without killing the magic? I believe they succeeded. There is a magnificence in this film I’ve not yet encountered in the Harry Potter adaptations. Instead, it begins to approach Lord of the Rings – especially in terms of the cinematography. Goodness gracious, but New Zealand has become quite the idyllic locale. Housing Middle-earth and Narnia is an impressive feat. I only hope these films don’t draw so many people to the islands that the pristine beauty for which they are lauded is diminished. Narnia is just gorgeous, and the film is awfully realistic-looking considering the fact that it’s populated mostly with characters who are at least partially computer generated. There’s nothing cartoonish about these beasts, and I think even Lewis would approve and agree that technology has finally caught up to his vision – an irony with both Tolkien and Lewis, who both treasured nature so deeply and were wary of industrialization.

Speaking of Tolkien, as I must when I mention Lewis, I thought I caught at least a couple nods to the good professor. The shot of the children and beavers huddling under a rocky overpass as they flee the White Witch is remarkably similar to the moment early in Fellowship in which the four young hobbits hide from their Nazgul pursuer. Later, the girls send an important message through the trees, and I can't help but think of the Beacons of Gondor. Finally, when the climactic battle is in full swing, a troop of eagles swoops down to provide unexpected aid. Could that be a small tribute to Lewis’ dear friend and fellow storyteller? But I’m getting ahead of myself. And so: the story. Remarkably, there seems to be very little missing, though sadly one of those things is the kindly giant Rumblebuffin, who is only alluded to with a brief glimpse of his statue in the Witch’s courtyard. However, a great deal has been added, and though I counted each departure with a bit of an inner grumble, in the end I found that most of the changes did not bother me. I have read that the director wanted to recapture the excitement he felt when he first encountered the books as a child, masking the slight disillusionment he experienced when he read it as an adult. The magic, it seemed, had gone. I still see the enchantment in Narnia’s pages, but then I never really have grown up. Adamson coaxes those who have become burdened with the trappings of adulthood to relinquish them for two and a half hours and believe again.

The story involves four children: Lucy (Georgie Henley), Edmund (Skandar Keynes), Susan (Anna Popplewell) and Peter Pevensie (William Mosely). In the film, we see their unnerving exodus from a war-torn English city into the relative safety of the countryside, where they take up residence with a reticent, eccentric professor (Jim Broadbent) and a cranky housekeeper (Elizabeth Hawthorne) in an enormous mansion in which most of the doors are kept locked. One, however, is enticingly open, and Lucy wanders into it during a game of hide and seek and there finds an object of awesome beauty: a wardrobe, ornately carved, drawing her in like a magnet (though she does, of course, remember to leave its door ajar for easy exit). When she stops brushing past fur coats and starts to get pricked by pine needles, it’s clear she’s stepped into a very strange wardrobe indeed, but she has no fear as she embarks upon this strange journey without her siblings into a world she did not know existed. Through this first trip, we see her sense of awe and wonder, her gentleness and emotional openness. For she quickly forges a delightful bond with a jittery but earnest faun named Mr. Tumnus (James McAvoy), a connection that will pave the way for all the adventures that follow.

In Narnia, we soon become accustomed to the sight of talking animals and creatures with features both human and bestial. The pristine snowfall comes to seem less enchanting than sinister, though as its grip weakens, it poses little threat – aside from in a rip-roaring river scene entirely absent in the book that nonetheless is quite exciting to watch. There are allies and enemies, and everyone seems to fall into one camp or another – for Aslan (Liam Neeson), the magnificent Lion who is the rightful king of Narnia, or Jadis (Tilda Swinton), an impostor who fancies herself the Queen and is responsible for the century of winter that has reigned in this magical land. Though this icy monarch refuses to admit it, she fears Aslan and the prophecy involving his return – a prophecy involving four humans. She will do anything to stop them from fulfilling their long foretold destinies, and it seems her job is made much simpler when she manages to woo a petulant Edmund, who encounters her alone before the four children finally make it through to Narnia together, to her side. While the fate of the land is ultimately in Aslan’s paws, the children have a great hand in it; they must battle fierce foes and their own interpersonal disputes before they can hope to save Edmund and, indeed, all of Narnia.

The cast is excellent, with Swinton most striking as the seductive witch. She is pale, beady-eyed and elegant – and as terrifying as Cruella De Vil, who seems cut from the same mold. Neeson gives kingly voice to the beautifully animated Lion, conveying both his warmth and his wrath. McAvoy is incredibly winning as Tumnus, and his relationship with Lucy is one of the most heartwarming aspects of the film. While all the supporting characters are excellent, particular attention must be paid to Ginarrbrik (Kiran Shah), Jadis’ the much-abused right-hand dwarf, and the Beavers (Ray Winstone and Dawn French), who are just as powerful a tribute to decent working-class folks as the Weasleys are in the Harry Potter books. The two bicker frequently, but always in love, and they clearly are two of Aslan’s most faithful followers. But it really is the children at the center of this story, and these four unknowns are marvelous, especially Henley, which makes me particularly happy. Lucy is just as curious and compassionate and connected to this strange new world as I would wish her to be, and Henley has just the right expressive qualities to accentuate the beauty of this character. Lucy is my favorite, and I applaud them for getting her right. Keynes, too, puts in a powerful performance as the outcast of the group. Though Lucy is always perfectly decent to him, Susan and Peter seem to have little affection but plenty of criticism for him, and it's easy to see why he would seek appreciation elsewhere. Peter is pretty much right but, like Aragorn in LotR, is far too reluctant to embrace his kingly destiny. He lacks some of the nobility he possessed in the book, and he’s too argumentative – as is Susan, though she always did strike me as a bit too bossy. In all honesty her overly grown-upness (well-intentioned as it often is) always rather got on my nerves, though Narnia eventually draws out her inherent sweetness. The three eldest children spend a great deal of time cross with one another, and I think they perhaps over-emphasized this, but it perhaps increases its resemblance to reality. In the end, no matter what their differences, the four children are family and they care deeply about each other, and that love can overcome many obstacles.

As I said, a great deal was added to this film in terms of exciting sequences, and there is much more emphasis on the battle with the White Witch than there was in the book, where it occupied a mere few paragraphs. As cinematic battles go, it’s pretty impressive-looking, and I understand the director’s choice in focusing on that, but I still wish we could have spent a bit more time in the courtyard with Aslan summoning the rest of the army. As in LotR, the best scenes are the personal ones, little moments in which the children come to appreciate one another more fully or are able to connect with their true monarch on a very intimate level. As long as these don’t get lost in the shuffle of special effects that are sure to be used liberally in the six sequels, I see no reason why all seven films can’t be equally enchanting. I for one can hardly wait for Prince Caspian. Until then, all I can say is well done and Godspeed. Narnia is just as magical as ever.

Emergency, Emergency! Please to Get to Store to Make Rentings ot The Russians are Coming!

I have come to the conclusion, after having seen several of them, that I generally do not like movies about submarines. U-571? Das Boots? Monstrously depressing. Hunt for Red October? Just a notch better. Heck, even Atlantis was a downer and Yellow Submarine was an acid trip. But one submarine movie that I can always count on to satisfy my sensibilities is The Russians Are Coming, the Russians are Coming. It may help that virtually none of the movie takes place in the sub itself, and because of that it probably shouldn’t even count as a submarine movie at all. But I digress. There are a few comedies that I hold sacred (and highly quotable). Short Circuit. Sister Act. Princess Bride. A Christmas Story. Blues Brothers. Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Well, you get the idea. But my list would be incomplete if I failed to mention this gem of a Cold War film about small-town hysteria, a group of misunderstood foreigners who just want to get back home, and one man who observes the madness unfolding around him and wonders why everyone can’t just get along.

The movie stars Carl Reiner as Walt Whittaker, the straight man of sorts in this comedy of errors. While our first impression of him is that he’s a belligerent crank, we gradually come to see what an incredibly decent fellow he is – and we begin to appreciate how he might come across like Mr. Wilson when his son makes Dennis the Menace seem a perfect angel by comparison. It’s that young son, Pete (Sheldon Collins), who first notices the strange men creeping up on the house, and throughout the rest of the movie, he loudly voices his disappointment that his father is not doing enough to stop these interlopers, making it clear that if he could get his hands on a shotgun, he’d blow them away without a speck of remorse.

The strangers, of course, are the titular Russians. The movie is dated now because nobody worries much about Russians anymore, but at the time they were of grave concern. The official reason for Chekov’s being included in the cast of Star Trek was that Roddenberry thought that would be the best way to demonstrate the extent of the harmony among races in the future (though I read elsewhere that the primary motivation for his inclusion was to win over teenie-boppers with a guy who looked like Davy Jones). At any rate, the trouble begins when a Soviet submarine runs aground after its rather dim-witted and volatile captain (Theodore Bikel) comes in for too close a look at America, which he has never seen before. As a result, the sub is stuck, and he delegates a small task force to find a boat with which to pull the vessel out to sea.

Most prominent among the landing party are Lt. Rozanov (Alan Arkin), the leader who seems intimidating at first but is clearly compassionate and level-headed, and Alexei Kolchin (John Philip Law), a jittery youth whose task of keeping the Whittakers secured at home turns from hair-raising to harmonious with the departure of demon child Pete and arrival of shapely babysitter Alison Palmer (Andrea Dromm). Arkin is maturely dashing with his leather jacket and mustache, while Law is blue-eyed and baby-faced. Rozanov seems like he’s in his late 40s, while Kolchin appears to be a teenager, but at 32, Arkin was only three years older than Law. Both are a pleasure to watch – and to listen to. There is something so inexplicably musical about broken English, whether or not the actors actually have accents themselves. (They don’t.)

Walt is drawn into the events of the day because it is his house they happen to come to first. While Kolchin hides near the Whittaker household, Walt sets off for town, where he finds hysteria has begun to set in thanks to a phone call by paranoid biddy Muriel Everett (Doro Merande) announcing that the Russians have landed. The tale grows more outlandish by the minute until rumors of paratroopers and an overtaken airport whip the villagers who haven’t already packed up their bags and left into a frenzy. An instrumental aid in spreading the rumors is Alice Foss (Tessie O’Shea), the gossipy local telephone operator who initially takes Muriel’s call. Long-suffering police chief Link Mattocks (Brian Keith) has major doubts as to the veracity of these claims, but his attempts to keep order are thwarted by Hawkish Fendall Hawkins (Paul Ford), a sword-toting, decorated veteran all too eager to lead an assault against the invaders.

As we started watching this movie the other night, my dad pondered whether many Russians saw the movie and what they thought of it. Later, he wondered if small-town New Englanders might have cause to be just a mite offended by the film’s events. Certainly the foibles of these provincial characters shine, allowing the film to reach the height of its comedic potential, but there is nothing mean-spirited in the portrayal. The Russians, meanwhile, come across as consistently decent, aside from the captain’s occasional bursts of apparent insanity. In the end, though, he’s an upright chap as well, and we’re left with a vision just as hopeful as Roddenberry’s, that many major conflicts have roots in simple misunderstandings and that the people we most fear and despise often are not so different from us. A fine message indeed from one of the funniest movies around.

"Your Kids Have All Really Touched Me, and I'm Pretty Sure I've Touched Them."

I had never heard of Jack Black until 2002, and my first exposure to him was in the dubious vehicle of an MTV parody of the Council of Elrond. My next was in Shallow Hal, which I expected to find really crude and stupid but was surprised. Thus encouraged, when I saw the previews for School of Rock and thought it looked like a cute movie, I decided to go for it. While I encountered strong echoes of both Sister Act movies, I didn’t mind, and given the direction of the film, I doubt they were intentional.

Jack Black stars as Dewey Finn, a burn-out wannabe rock star – recently booted from the band he founded – who loafs around his timid, good-natured friend Ned Schneebly’s (Mike White) apartment and refuses to get a day job, much to the annoyance of Ned’s snippy, career-driven live-in girlfriend, Patty (Sarah Silverman). Motivation to make a quick buck arrives in the form of Patty’s shrill ultimatum that he pay up his part of the rent or get out, and opportunity knocks when a prestigious private school comes calling for Ned, a substitute teacher, to take over a class for several weeks. Dewey has no experience whatsoever, but $600 a week sounds pretty good, so he impersonates his friend in order to score the “gig,” and the fun begins.

Some suspension of disbelief is necessary while watching this film, especially early on. Dewey comes across as so completely incompetent, no way would any real-life administrator hire him. But it does make for some amusing moments. Once he meets his young charges, it’s clear that they are no fools; they smell a rat, even if uptight principal Rosalie Mullins (Joan Cusack) doesn’t. But they are willing to give their clueless substitute a chance, and when he discovers that several of them happen to be talented musicians, he finds a way to connect with them – and maybe gain a little bit of fame in the process.

The kids are engaging, and we get to know several of them fairly well throughout the course of the film. There’s goody-goody Summer (Miranda Cosgrove), the Hermione of the class; Lawrence (Robert Tsai), the shy, nerdy pianist; Zack (Joey Gaydos Jr.), the guitarist whose father disapproves of rock and roll; Freddy (Kevin Clark), the percussionist with a bad attitude; Billy (Brian Falduto), the effeminate costume designer; Tomika (Maryam Hassan), the insecure singer; and others. Their interaction with their initially delinquent teacher is delightful, and the musically inclined ones of the bunch are impressively talented. I’m reminded of Sister Act with the premise of a person going incognito in a job for which he seems particularly unsuited and eventually becoming a far better person for the experience. Its sequel comes to mind, meanwhile, as the children prepare for a major non-school-approved musical contest.

I confess I find Joan Cusack inherently annoying, and such is the case here, but her character is at least ultimately sympathetic – reminiscent of the harsh administrator in Anne of Avonlea whose shell Anne finally manages to crack. She’s not nearly as irritating, however, as Ned’s girlfriend, and I felt terribly sorry for the poor guy who is so used to being utterly ignored by women that he’s grateful for the absolute shrew he is stuck with. We don’t see a lot of Ned, but when we do, he’s most endearing.

All in all, School of Rock is a sweet film about the power of music to change lives, and while it’s not quite as compelling as Mr. Holland’s Opus, it should still do the trick in getting people to appreciate the importance of having active music programs in schools. The laughs and the message, together with a great cast, earn School of Rock an A from me.

I Wish I Had a Monster in My Closet!

I have yet to see Chicken Little. I’m not sure it’s going to happen, at least in the theater; I suspect it would not be an appropriate use of a trip to the big screen. Quite frankly, Disney’s latest computer animated effort looks scary, in more ways than one. It’s left me longing for the most endearing of the Disney-Pixar collaborations, most especially Monsters, Inc. How can a movie about monsters be so adorable? Why hasn’t any Disney flick since achieved that level of brilliance? (Actually, Finding Nemo came close, but no others have.)

I know Epinions needs another review of Monsters, Inc. like an ostrich needs a swimming pool, but I couldn’t resist. The premise is very clever. While the Toy Story movies imagined the everyday activities of toys while their owners aren’t looking, allowing for all sorts of creative possibilities, Monsters, Inc. subverts the old idea of the monster in the closet by showing us a world in which the monsters are just ordinary folks who provide electricity for their town by collecting the energy given off by the screams of children. The bulk of the film takes place in the titular factory, which contains a dizzying array of doors – one for every child’s room in the world. (Toward the end of the movie, we actually get to see the inner workings of the factory in a scene that reminded me both of Star Wars and The Emperor’s New Groove.) The monsters take their job of scaring the children seriously but are in fact terrified of the kiddies, as evidenced by the hilariously omnipresent task force responsible for decontaminating areas that have been touched by anything from the human world.

The variety of life in Monstropolis provides a feast for the eyes. The animators must’ve had a lot of fun with this one. Each character is distinctively freakish, with multiple eyes or limbs, fur or scales, snakes for hair or the plump body of a slug to shimmy along the floor. And yet very few of these characters seem sinister at all – the exception being Randall (Steve Buscemi), the sneaky chameleon-like rival of the film’s heroes, buddies with the incredibly working-class names James Sullivan (John Goodman) and Mike Wazowski (Billy Crystal). Sulley is a warm and fuzzy gentle giant, the steady, dependable top scarer at his company who finds himself inexplicably becoming attached to the child who mysteriously turns up in Monstropolis. Short, squat, one-eyed Mike has all the frantic energy of Donkey in Shrek. He’s sarcastic and neurotic and can’t seem to stop talking. The two make a great team, playing off one another perfectly as they strive to return the little girl Sully dubs “Boo” (Mary Gibbs) to her rightful bedroom before anyone finds out what they’re up to. Pixar still hadn’t quite perfected its portrayal of humanity yet at this point; she’s a cutie, but she seems far less realistic and vibrant than her monster counterparts. Nonetheless, she’s adorable, and the relationship that develops between her and Sulley becomes the heart of the film. Meanwhile, her antics ring amusingly true for anyone who has ever had to babysit a toddler.

Though Mike and Sulley get the most attention, there are a number of monsters to whom we are introduced. There’s Roz (Bob Peterson), the slug-like, grating secretary always after Mike to complete his paperwork, and Celia (Jennifer Tilly), his easily offended girlfriend whose snake-filled hair rattles when she’s angry. There’s the apparently paternal boss, Henry J. Waternoose III (James Coburn); the nerdy and servile Fungus (Frank Oz); the obligatory John Ratzenberger character (the gregarious Yeti) and plenty of other amusing characters. While the inclusion of Boo and the rampant slapstick are appealing to the youngest crowd, there are plenty of jokes and references especially for adults. The absolute silliness of the child contamination task force allowed an opportunity to laugh a bit at the anthrax scare that had the country in its icy grip when the movie came out. Monstropolis’ energy crisis also hits close to home; if only the solution for us were as simple as the one Sulley hits upon!

Monsters, Inc. is hilarious and heart-warming, one of the best animated movies I’ve ever seen. Let’s hope there are still a couple more where that came from.

The Horror With This Halloween Special is in Disney's Lack of Integrity

Winnie-the-Pooh fan that I am, I was eager to see Pooh’s Heffalump Halloween Movie, in spite of the potential worry inherent in a direct-to-video release such as this. After all, there had been other Pooh Halloween specials that went straight to video, and those were perfectly worthwhile. Why not this one? I loved Pooh’s Heffalump Movie (except the title, and this one is even more cumbersome and condescending), so I figured a new excursion with Lumpy would be enjoyable enough. And at 66 minutes, it was about as long as the feature film that precipitated it. Or so I thought.

I was robbed.

Let me say first off that this is not a bad movie in and of itself. It’s perfectly in line with most of the Pooh films – and considerably better than Piglet’s Big Movie, to a certain extent. Roo (Nikita Hopkins) is overcome with anticipation at the prospect of showing Lumpy (Kyle Stanger) how much fun Halloween is, as Heffalumps do not celebrate that particular holiday. Lumpy is at first just as excited as Roo, but his thrills fade into chills when Tigger (Jim Cummings) regales him with a tale about the dreaded Gobloon who lurks near the Tree of Terror. This horrific beast possesses the power to turn those it catches into Jaggedy Lanterns, and this prospect is enough to encourage Lumpy to spend the evening hiding under Rabbit’s (Ken Sansom) bed.

This is an annoyance for Rabbit, who is determined to make this the most efficient Halloween yet. In preparation, he has gathered all the candy in the Hundred Acre Wood, though I wonder how he managed that without anyone else knowing. At any rate, Rabbit attempts to assuage the youngster’s fears while Roo voices his disappointment at Lumpy’s reluctance to face the spooky holiday.

Poor Eeyore (Peter Cullen) has little to do here but proclaim his superfluity, though he does appear in later scenes in a slightly more useful capacity. At this point, Lumpy’s similarity to Piglet (the late John Fielder) is noticeable but acceptable. He’s a jittery little fellow, after all, and though it would be better to give him a more distinguishable character trait, it’s not strange for one so young to be frightened by spooks. An adventure element soon commences when Pooh (Cummings) absent-mindedly consumes all the candy in the Hundred-Acre Wood , leaving none for trick-or-treating. Roo decides it shall be up to Lumpy and him to seek out the Gobloon before it can find them, thereby forcing it to grant them one wish – the candy needed for Halloween to continue. In the name of bravery and friendship, Lumpy agrees, but will his nerves get the better of him? Or can Roo keep his spirits up with a recitation of the time Piglet experienced similar Halloween anxieties?

Okay, this is where the special lost me. The animation’s fine, the characterizations are fine, the music, while not particularly memorable, is fine. What’s not fine is sticking an old Halloween special (Boo to You Too! Winnie-the-Pooh) into the middle of the movie as a flashback and passing the thing off as more than an hour of new material. I enjoyed that special, and as it happens I don’t have an official video of it, so that lessened my ire somewhat. Someone unfamiliar with the earlier special might not care. But still. That’s just dishonest, not to mention lazy. It’s gross manipulation, insincere marketing, and I am very disappointed in Disney.

The special involves Piglet being afraid of Halloween until the knowledge that Pooh is in peril wakens secret stores of bravery. An amusing sub-plot involves Gopher’s (Michael Gough) repeated attempts to devise the perfect Halloween costume. I became a bit worried when Roo informed Lumpy that he was going to tell him this story, but I assumed it would be a brief nod and then we’d get on with things. Nope. We got the whole thing. By the end of the real movie, I realized that not only was this truly only a half-hour long special but that it was at its heart largely a copy of that prior special. Way to make the self-plagiarism obvious.

So yeah, I’m disappointed. I’d like to recommend the special, as it’s sweet and just as adorable as Pooh specials generally are, but I’m too annoyed with the unscrupulous manner in which it was presented. If they’d just shown them as two separate specials and advertised the DVD as a compilation, I would be much happier. As it is, I feel I have been taken in, and for that reason, I shall furrow my brow, wag an accusatory finger at Disney, and refuse to endorse this release that demonstrates a startling lack of integrity.

Travel to the Nearest Video Store to Get Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants

Working in a bookstore, I’m usually pretty up on what books are especially popular with each demographic. Within the young adult section, very few titles have done so well lately as Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants and its sequels. I didn’t really know much about the book, however, until the movie came out. Around the same time, my friend read the book, and she heartily recommended it, and we decided it would be a great movie to go see together sometime. That “sometime” finally arrived a couple weeks ago, when the film hit video stores. At a mild PG, it’s a teen flick that celebrates friendship and family, making it an ideal pick for sleepovers or family film nights.

When I was in elementary school, I used to read a series of books entitled Friends 4-Ever. Each volume consisted largely of the correspondences of four friends to one another. Each of them picked out special stationery and wrote letters that they signed with clever phrases beginning with “Yours till the…” This film reminds me of that series with its focus on four lifelong friends who have been separated from one another but keep one another close through the mail. But their secret lies not just in writing to one another. When they find a pair of jeans that mysteriously fits each of them perfectly, they decide to share the pants, wearing them for a week before sending them off to the next lucky recipient. Whoever has the pants will have a little piece of her friends with her, and they will hopefully bring good fortune.

The girls in question are Carmen (America Ferrera), Bridget (Blake Lively), Lena (Alexis Bledel) and Tibby (Amber Tamblyn). The movie is almost four separate movies as it cuts from one girl to the next, developing four very different stories. The pants provide a common element, and each of the girls has at least one voice-over in the form of the letter accompanying the magical garment.

Carmen, who provides narration at the beginning of the film in which she introduces us to the group, is an aspiring writer of Puerto Rican descent. Her father (Bradley Whitford) left her and her mother six years earlier, and she has seen him only a few times since, so she is thrilled at the prospect of spending an entire summer with him in his home. The vacation quickly turns sour, however, when he surprises her with his new suburban life in a development – with a new family to go with it. Lydia (Nancy Travis) and her teenage children, Paul (Kyle Schmid) and Krista (Emily Tennant), strike Carmen as some sort of eerie Barbie-doll family, particularly the way-too-perky mother-daughter twosome. Paul, meanwhile, scarcely says a word throughout her visit. As plans for the upcoming wedding proceed, Carmen grows more and more uncomfortable, feeling as though she has been replaced and has no part in this new life her father has constructed for himself. Of the four stories, hers strikes me as the most depressing, and though the film leaves us with some resolution, I couldn’t help but wonder how long it would last.

Bridget is by far my least favorite of the four, and I wouldn’t have complained if her part of the film had been excised entirely. Her character never appealed to me at all until a moment toward the end in which she reminisces about a treasured moment with her mother, who committed suicide. (With Tamblyn in the film, I couldn’t help but draw lots of Joan of Arcadia connections, and I found it interesting that this character’s backstory was so similar to that of Adam Rove, Joan’s sometime boyfriend, though the two characters react to their mothers’ suicides in almost opposite ways.) It seems I should feel sorry for Bridget because of what she’s been through, but I don’t. I find her actions, particularly at soccer camp, obnoxious and overbearing, and her friends’ descriptions of her don’t really seem to match up with what I see on the screen. But she is loyal to her trio of buddies, and they stand by her when several weeks of flirtation with soccer coach Eric (Mike Vogel) lead to a gnawing emptiness that threatens to consume her upon her arrival back home.

Lena, in contrast to Bridget, is a shrinking violet. Sweet and quiet, she sees her vacation in sun-soaked Greece as an opportunity to spend quality time with her grandparents, gregarious Yia Yia (Maria Konstadarou) and taciturn Papou (George Touliatos), and draw idyllic locales. When hunky, free-spirited Kostos (Michael Rady) takes a shine to her, she isn’t sure what to make of his affections, particularly when she learns a Romeo and Juliet-style animosity exists between her family and his. I would say of the four stories, hers is the happiest, which was rather gratifying since she reminds me so much of myself. She also undergoes a significant change in her way of looking at the world that still leaves her integrity uncompromised.

Aside from a general interest in the story, what really drew me to Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants was Amber Tamblyn, particularly after I learned that my favorite show was axed by Les “Let’s Skew Younger” Moonves. Never mind that a majority of the major characters in Joan of Arcadia were teenagers… Anyway, she did a brilliant job on that show, so I was eager to see what she would be like in this film. Oddly enough, blue-haired, angsty-documentary-making Tibby’s a lot like Joan: sarcastic, pouty, but ultimately good-hearted and open to a life-changing encounter with another individual. While on the surface the friendship she unwittingly cultivates with an eccentric 12-year-old (Jenna Boyd) is reminiscent of Joan’s relationship with death-obsessed young Rocky, like God in all his various forms on the show, young Bailey helps the jaded Tibby to see the promising possibilities inherent in each individual. Ironically, though Tibby is the only one of the four to stay home all summer, it is she who undergoes change at the deepest level, and I found her story easily the most moving of the four, inspiring and heart-wrenching.

The film celebrates the power of friendship and its ability to endure, and even be strengthened by, distances. The girls are very different, and apart from one another they shine in ways they would not have as part of the group, much as Merry and Pippin come into their own when they are finally separated from one another for a time in Return of the King. But when they are reunited, the bond is more solid than ever. There is very little in this film that could be deemed offensive, and the only story line that strays ever so subtly into more PG-13 territory is Bridget’s. Much is left to the viewer’s imagination, however, so there’s nothing to be particularly concerned about. A fine film for friends, for mothers and daughters, for anyone looking for a wholesome, thoughtful movie, Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants is well worth a trip to the video store.

13 Going on 30 Isn't Big, But It Is a Big Success

I have been renting a lot of very good movies lately. Am I just in a really good mood, such that even From Justin to Kelly would look amazing to me were I watching it for the first time? Have I developed an especially keen eye for movies? Is it just that a lot of good ones have landed on the shelves within the last couple years? I don’t know what the answer is. I do know that as soon as I watched 13 Going on 30, I declared it one of the sweetest movies I’d ever seen, and I was more than happy to have a reprise viewing the next day with my brother. I liked it enough to draw favorable comparisons with several other excellent movies, whose titles I will mention later. It carried me away so fully that when my mom suggested I really ought to give the film a lower rating than Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, which we’d also rented, I balked. I expected I probably would find it mildly entertaining, with plenty of amusing moments, most of which hopefully would not earn the PG-13 rating. I did not expect to see a film of such incredible sweetness, and I’ve been savoring it all week.

The film begins in the 80s, where Jenna (Christa Allen) is quickly introduced as an awkward girl on the cusp of her teen years desperate to be embraced by the Six Chicks, a stereotypical group of blonde, pencil-thin, snotty clones. While Matty (Sean Marquette), her next-door neighbor and best friend, endeavors to make her birthday a truly special and memorable experience, Jenna is much more interested in having the Six Chicks – led by a first-class brat named Lucy (Alexandra Kyle) – and dreamy jock Chris (Alex Black) at her party. Already loaded with teen angst, she pores over Poise, her favorite magazine, longing to be "30 and flirty and thriving.” When a party gone predictably askew meets thoughtful Matty’s wishing dust, Jenna is off for the adventure of a lifetime and an incredible lesson in regret and appreciation for the things that are truly important.

When I first saw previews for this film, I thought, “Aha, a rip-off on Big.” Only difference is that it’s a girl this time. But in truth, while both films feature adults splendidly portraying children suddenly thrust into adult bodies and responsibilities, this film has far more in common ultimately with the long line of movies about unpopular people suddenly getting everything they always dreamed of, only to discover that what they had in the first place was far more fulfilling. Big was a coming-of-age story of sorts, or coming to realize that it is best to relish one’s current age rather than rushing on toward a supposedly grander time. 13 Going on 30 is much more about relationships and wrong turns.

Unlike Josh, Tom Hanks’ character in Big, Jenna is catapulted 17 years into the future, where she has more than half a life worth of history of which she has no knowledge. She’s living in a ritzy apartment, dating a hockey star (Samuel Ball) who's more than a little hot on himself, schmoozing with the husband (Ian Barford) of a co-worker, working as an editor at the magazine she loves so much. She’s a gorgeous woman on the outside, but from everything she gathers, she has been vile on the inside for quite some time. Lucy (Judy Greer) is now her “best friend,” if such a term can fairly be applied to anyone so self-absorbed and callous, and Matty (Mark Ruffalo) hasn’t spoken to her in years, once she made it abundantly clear that she wanted nothing to do with him. Like the clueless caterpillars in Hope for the Flowers, she’s been willing to destroy anyone and everyone in her rise to the top, and most of her associates cower when she comes near, while her parents have long since ceased to expect her to take an interest in their affairs.

Jenna is shocked to discover the person she has become. Thrilled as she is by her chic frame, ultra-cool friend and dream job, she is lost and frightened in an unfamiliar world. She can’t even turn to her parents for help, as they are off on a cruise. Her only possible crutch is Matty, and she finds herself relying on him increasingly. Though he is perplexed by her sudden reappearance in his life, he is all too happy to spend a few precious days with his long lost friend before his upcoming marriage relocates him to Chicago with a woman whose affections seem increasingly unsatisfactory. Ultimately he is the heart of the film, the window through which Jenna realizes just how badly she went wrong, or will go wrong if she goes back to being 13 and continues on the path where she was heading.

There are several striking performances in this film. The standout, of course, is Jennifer Garner, who is so utterly vivacious and infectious as the geeky teen trapped in a gorgeous woman’s body that we forgive her all her faults committed while she still looked the part of an adolescent. Allen is far less affecting; she’s a little heavy-handed with her teen drama, and all I can think throughout the bulk of the film’s first scenes in, “You moron! What is the matter with you?” I’m blessed, I guess, to never have experienced the intense desire for popularity. I never much cared about fitting in with any crowd, glitzy or not. It’s angering for me to see all these girls in films treating their parents and their real friends like dirt while chasing after some unsubstantiated goal. Garner’s Jenna is sweet, expressive and sincere, and we wonder how such a wonderful person could evolve into such a jerk and fervently hope that this fate can be avoided when she inevitably returns to her rightful place in the world.

Matt stands out in both his incarnations. Though we don’t see a whole lot of him, it’s Marquette who really moves me, reminding me of both the loyal (and pudgy) Samwise Gamgee and sensitive, artsy Adam Rove from Joan of Arcadia. I later discovered there’s another reason for the latter; he’s the little brother of Christopher Marquette, who plays (or, rather, played) Joan’s eccentric boyfriend. You couldn’t ask for a better best friend, and while he acts casual, it’s clear that he adores Jenna and nothing would make him happier than to have her look at him the way she looks at Chris. Ruffalo takes on the adult role that occupies most of the film, and he too is beyond sweet. Now that they’re adults and Jenna begins to discover the chill of the world she’s chosen for herself, she clings to the warmth of the friend she never properly appreciated. My favorite quote from The Princess Diaries – “You saw me when I was invisible” – would be an extraordinarily appropriate thing for her to say to her once-rejected pal. Yet even as Jenna’s presence awakens in Matt feelings he has not experienced in years, like Edward Ferrars in Sense and Sensibility, he is too honorable to break off an engagement, even if the cost is his happiness.

Kyle’s physical similarity to Greer is remarkable. Both are most effective in portraying the despicable Lucy. Could her name be short for Lucifer? When we realize that this is what Jenna could have become, the impact is alarming. Though Matt’s fiance Wendy (Lynn Collins) seems like a nice enough person, her sweet facade barely conceals the fact that she feels incredibly threatened by Jenna’s reemergence. While she’s hardly as obnoxious as Mel, Niles’ witchy wife for a season or so of Frasier, I can’t help but make the comparison, and it makes me wonder how, even thinking that Jenna is forever out of reach, Matt could marry someone so entirely different, so devoid of the passion and compatibility distinguishing his most treasured relationship. Her iciness shines through on a few occasions, such as when she corrects Matt’s use of the word “anchorwoman” with “anchorperson” and, with a condescending laugh, responds to Jenna’s remark that she doesn’t know what she would have done without Matt with, “I’m sure you’ll be just fine!”

Of course, not all the women Jenna encounters in her new life are so unpleasant. After she’s begun to settle into her new life, though with limited success, she seeks solace in the arms of her mother (Kathy Baker), whose maternal instincts remain sharp as ever. All is forgiven when Jenna returns home; we’re even treated to scenes of Jenna crawling into bed next to her and eating smiley-face pancakes she has prepared. She finds a new friend in Becky (Renee Olstead), a 13-year-old who lives in the building. They can discuss teen things together, and she is far more comfortable with this good-natured, average girl than with Lucy. In the workplace, she has an ally in her assistant Arlene (Marcia DeBonis), who is cowed and harassed-looking at the beginning but loosens up and becomes increasingly joyous as she discovers that overnight, Jenna has changed fundamentally into a decent person. The gentle comic moments involving her enhance the workplace scenes considerably.

Oh, and I can’t forget Andy Serkis. One thing that drew me to this movie was the opportunity to see Serkis in a regular acting role, as an ordinary person, wearing a suit instead of a loincloth and carrying a briefcase instead of a fish. As Richard, Jenna’s boss, he is delightful, a flamboyant, frazzled, fatherly presence who calls to mind Fezziwig from A Christmas Carol. When he’s not busy having a nervous breakdown, he’s a very fun person to have around. Though his humor is dry, his heart is warm, and his voice is so deep it’s easy to put the raspy Gollum out of mind – that is, until you see the exact same expression of elation on his face that the former hobbit wore whenever he got near the Ring.

I like this movie. A lot. I like just about everything about it, and I really don’t care if there are several other movies in which the main character comes to his or her senses, discovering a misplaced sense of priorities and reawakening appreciation for true friends and simple pleasures. I rented 13 Going on 30 looking for a laugh. I found a lot more. Perhaps true love and fulfillment are still possible in this cynical day and age, and perhaps we needn’t pursue them so relentlessly. We need only remain true to our better natures and to those who truly care about us, and the rest will fall into place.

A Curious Correspondence and a Dashing Stranger

When, after great anticipation, I finally watched Finding Neverland, I was treated to a preview for a movie I’d never heard of. Entitled Dear Frankie, it was a Scottish film about a deaf boy who corresponds continually with his sailor father – or so he thinks. The letters are actually written by his mother, who is trying to protect him from the fact that his father is in reality an enraged jerk from whom she continues to flee, and eventually she decides to cement the illusion by hiring someone to portray the boy’s father for a day. The premise intrigued me, and the fact that it was Scottish did not hurt one bit. As I’ve said on so many other occasions, I could listen to a Scot talk all day.

Anyway, I thought it sounded like an interesting movie, but I didn’t hear any more about it until I went to the video store last week and saw it among the new releases. We were out in search of chick flicks, and though this didn’t look like it fit the description precisely, it seemed a good prospect. We watched The Prince and Me the first night and Dear Frankie the last night of our rental, and we wound up two for two. We should rent movies more often.

The look of the film is lovely, particularly in scenes when Frankie (Jack McElhone) goes out to look out over the bay and we’re treated to grand views of surrounding moors. Within the city, there is grittiness; Frankie’s family is poor, and while they’re not exactly in the slums, they’re certainly on the lower end of the middle class spectrum. Frankie is an intelligent and affectionate child doted on by his mother Lizzie (Emily Mortimer) and, to a lesser extent, his grandmother (Mary Riggans), who knows and disapproves of Lizzie’s trickery. It’s a bit like going to extraordinary lengths to convince your child to believe in the Tooth Fairy or Santa Claus, and the longer the ruse continues, the more painful ultimate revelation will be. But beyond Lizzie’s desire to protect her son is an ulterior motive: because he does not speak, receiving Frankie’s letters is the only way she can hear her son’s voice.

Lizzie finds a confidante in Marie (Sharon Small), a sprightly woman who convinces her to come work with her at a nearby restaurant. Frankie has trouble adjusting to his class but finds a kindred spirit in Catriona (Jayd Johnson), a friendly girl who happens to know sign language. Less congenial is Ricky (Sean Brown), who antagonizes Frankie and makes a bet with him that his dad will not stop to see him when his boat docks in town for a few days. When Lizzie learns of the bet – and the boat, whose name she had adopted for the fictional boat from which Frankie’s dad writes – she is distraught and embarks on an intimidating search for a man who will agree to be Frankie’s father for a day. Complicating matters is the fact that Frankie’s real father has fallen terminally ill and is desperately searching for the family that fled him in order to make amends before the end.

In the end, it’s Marie to the rescue, furnishing out of thin air a man with, as Marie requests, “no past, no present and no future.” And yet strangely possessing all the qualities she wishes existed in Frankie’s real father. Gerard Butler, known to me as the Phantom from the recent film version of Lloyd Weber’s masterpiece, is the stranger, a quietly intuitive man who seems to know just what Frankie needs. The man and boy bond so quickly that it’s easy to forget they are not actually related, and you wonder at the marvelous luck that allowed Lizzie to find such an incredibly gentle and generous man to give her boy the thrill of a lifetime.

The truth of Frankie’s past is the darkest part of the film, and Butler is truly heartbreaking as his character reacts to Lizzie’s admission that Frankie’s father beat him into deafness as an infant. But in the present day, there is pervasive warmth and tenderness, and that is what remains at the conclusion of the film in spite of the realizations that precede it. Americans may have to pay extra close attention in order to comprehend the accents, but the dialogue is worth the extra effort, and the tones are melodious as always. There are a few profanities thrown about, but these are rare, and there’s really very little in the film to render it inappropriate for younger audiences. Dear Frankie is a fine family film with just a touch of fairy dust thrown in to make it fly.

Fairy Tale Meets Reality in The Prince and Me

I am a sucker for sappy movies. I’ll just say that up front. Thought-provoking is fine, but movies that tug at my heart strings are more likely to win me over completely. So when my mom and I went looking for a couple movies to rent recently, my eyes settled upon The Prince and Me, and when we finished watching it, I heaved the sort of happy sigh brought on by warm fuzzies. In other words, I approved.

I did a bit of searching after the movie was over and found it had been panned by critics and general audiences alike. I had to admit it was derivative, containing echoes of Coming to America, Son-In-Law and The Princess Diaries, among others. But that didn’t diminish my enjoyment of the film. In fact, I would say it was one of the sweetest movies of its genre that I have seen. With its PG rating, it manages to be almost entirely inoffensive. There were a few times when I feared it might be heading into PG-13 territory, but these scenes always were cut short before any real impropriety could occur.

The basic story is an old one. A privileged boy used to being fawned over goes incognito and falls for a girl who initially hates him. The animosity breeds passion that will eventually be refocused as they get to know one another better and discover that they actually enjoy spending time together. The boy in question is Prince Edvard (Luke Mably), whose early scenes indicate that he is a reckless, sophomoric playboy. His motivation for attending a university in the United States is a commercial he saw for a video featuring wild American college girls. He covers this up well in his explanation to his parents, but his laconic lackey Soren (Ben Miller) knows the truth and seems both amused and gratified by the fact that reserved, focused Paige Morgan (Julia Stiles) refuses to give Eddie the time of day.

The two are thrown into association with one another. They are lab partners and co-workers at the student eatery. Eddie is thrust into collegiate life, learning how it feels to be an ordinary student struggling to get by. He is humbled by the valuable life experience he gains, and his party boy demeanor dissipates surprisingly quickly. Meanwhile, he helps Paige to loosen up and have a little fun while also encouraging her to give her heart the attention she generally reserves for her mind. The seeds of romance are planted, and they begin to blossom as Eddie assists Paige in appreciating Shakespeare and Paige shows Eddie the joys of farm life back home. All the while, his true identity is hidden, but it must emerge at some point, and when it does, both of them have choices to make. It plays out in largely fairy tale fashion, but there’s enough reality in there to make us believe it could actually happen, enough chemistry between the leads that we actually want it to.

Stiles has impressed me wherever I’ve seen her, and this film is no exception. She starts out so hardened, unable to really embrace life, and slowly drops her defenses. In moments when Paige allows herself some vulnerability, Stiles is radiant. Mably is a newcomer who I expect we’ll be seeing more of. For a start, he’s in the sequel – though I’m a bit leery of that, since two of the major characters – one of them Paige – are played by different actors the second time around. At any rate, though, he starts out seeming a rogue and grows increasingly uncertain, and his charm increases spectacularly in these moments. Particularly sweet are his Shakespeare lessons, in which his courtly upbringing gives him an exquisitely old-fashioned air. He has grown up with the Bard and truly understands him – yet even as he reads passages with stirring eloquence, his emotional investment prevents him from coming across as though he is in a superior position.

Supporting cast do a fine job, particularly Ben Miller, whose Soren seems at first to loathe being forced to babysit a hopelessly immature prince. I was reminded of Hugh Laurie’s performance as Mr. Palmer in Sense and Sensibility; so few words, but such a powerful presence, and we always knew exactly how irritated he was by his bubbly, gossipy wife. Like Mr. Palmer, though, Soren is a very decent fellow, as people in sophisticated servile positions always seem to be in this type of film, and he is ultimately very likable. Paige brings out the best in him as well as the prince. Miranda Richardson turns in a mostly icy performance as Eddie’s extremely proper mother, though she thaws a bit before all’s said and done. James Fox is warm throughout as Eddie’s ailing father, and I was amused by Devin Ratray, who plays Eddie’s burnout, video game obsessed roomie Scotty.

All told, The Prince and Me is just a very sweet story simply told. There is some attempt at modernization. This is first and foremost Paige’s story, and the director was determined not to see the movie end with her giving up her dreams for the sake of a fairy tale romance. But such is the bond between these two characters that we are determined to see their relationship survive, even if a royal wedding doesn’t occur before the credits roll. I saw the alternate ending and must say I am very satisfied with the chosen finale upon comparison. Prince Edvard’s coronation speech fulfills the director’s wishes for female empowerment with abundant elegance and emotion but leaves the door open for a cathartic conclusion that contains just enough happily ever after to satisfy a sap like me.

VeggieTales Lord of the Rings Parody Amounts to More Than a Hill of Beans

When two things you love converge, it’s a beautiful thing. So when I first heard about Big Ideas’s Lord of the Beans back in April, I could scarcely contain my anticipation. VeggieTales meets Lord of the Rings? How great is that? And how could I wait until November to see it? Well, I got cut a little break in that regard. As a Big Idea ambassador, I get to screen a preview copy of the latest Veggie offering a month or so in advance and, in turn, show it to eager churchgoing kids. Are those kiddies in for a treat!

Lord of the Beans is touted as an epic, clocking in at 45 minutes (typical of recent Veggie videos), all of which is devoted to the main story (atypical). Actually, there are breaks for the traditional counter-top bookend scenes and the silly song slightly beyond the mid-point. I was a bit surprised to see the intro and conclusion intact; previews had led me to believe it might be like Esther, which lacked all the normal Veggie conventions (and was something of a disappointment). Certainly they didn’t take away from the story - though that could’ve gone for an hour and a half and I would’ve been thrilled! Larry’s antics with his “ukelele” that set the stage for the story are amusing, and poor Bob doesn’t show up in Center Earth at all, so it’s nice that he gets to be included somehow.

Because of the subject matter, I regarded this video a bit differently than most Veggie offerings; I focused primarily on the degree to which it parodies Lord of the Rings. The first thing that jumps out is the amount of detail in these visuals. Although the reason for choosing Veggies as the subject of their series was their lack of limbs, making them easy to animate, the creators are no longer restrained by limitations in animation technology. Ever since The Star of Christmas, VeggieTales has peppered its offerings with artfully complex set pieces and costumes. The landscapes here are impressive; I especially love the outside shot of Billboy’s cozy flobbit hole. The Shire (incidentally, the only location or character whose name remains unchanged) is lush and green - though the grass seems a bit shorter than expected. Perhaps they have lawnmowers? Anyway, every location is deeply detailed, the costumes are beautifully realized, and every inch of animation is richly textured - except for the expository flashbacks, which are rendered more as storybook pages.

Also impressive is the musical score. Usually this aspect doesn’t stand out all that much, though it did in Minnesota Cuke as well. In both cases, the source material has a distinctive score, and its Veggie counterpart alludes to that. I love the flutey tones of the Shire and the spooky chorus that strikes up whenever the Bean is seen. Clearly, Howard Shore’s take on the book was an influence. In terms of plot points, director Phil Vischer draws largely from Peter Jackson. The scene in which we first meet Toto Baggypants and Randalf is almost identical to the one in the film, though the Veggies milk more silliness out of it. Indeed, up until the point when Toto agrees to undertake the quest – at which point we very quickly jump ahead to the formation of the Fellowship – it is extremely similar to the opening Shire scenes in the film – though more abbreviated and a bit sillier, of course.

The quest begins, and it turns out to be considerably less fraught with peril than that of Frodo and company. This isn’t too surprising, since Vischer’s tale is not one of good vs evil but rather of discovering the proper use for the gifts we are given. Like Bilbo, Billboy used the Bean for his own purposes for many years, and though it initially made him successful and happy, it gradually began to lose its luster. Billboy is more willing to give up his prize, recognizing that his use of it has contributed to his general sense of malaise, and although this object is not inherently evil, Toto remains nervous about accepting it. Nonetheless, once the decision is made, he is determined to follow through with his quest to discover its purpose. He and his intrepid companions face the stinging blizzards of the Mountains of Much Snowia and the wrath of the humorless Elders of the Razzberry Forest before drawing near to the Land of Woe, where Toto must finish the journey alone – at least until he meets a most unusual companion.

Given the focus of the story and the time constraints, I’m not surprised that quite a few characters did not make the cut; still, it was sad to see that Sam was excised entirely. Then again, given Junior’s past history, the most likely companion for his Toto would be a flobbit played by Laura Carrot, and I’m not sure how I would feel about a female Sam. At any rate, the character wouldn’t really fit into the story as Vischer decided to tell it. We do get quite a few characters though. Stubble-sporting Ear-o-Corn is more Larry than Aragorn, but if he’s far sillier than that stern ranger would ever be, he’s just as valiant. Jimmy Gourd hams it up as pointy-eared Leg-o-Lamb, sneaking around trees and rocks with his bow - complete with plunger arrows - taut. Pa Grape’s axe-wielding Grumpy is mostly modeled after Gimli, but he pulls triple duty, constantly craving food like Pippin and seeking to undermine Toto like Boromir. Mr. Nezzer is in a leadership role as usual as the wizened Randalf, but for a change he is competent and scrupulous. Completing the fellowship is Leg-o-Lamb’s unnamed brother. The reasons for his inclusion don’t become apparent until the conclusion, when his contribution supports the theme of everyone having gifts and needing to use them in the best way possible.

The aforementioned Billboy is played by Archibald Asparagus, that sophisticated, monocled Brit. His speech is one of my favorite moments in the video. In addition to performing a stirring song, he speaks what are probably the two most amusing lines in the whole adventure. The villainous leek who still lacks a name plays Lord Scaryman, whose army of Sporks engages the Fellowship in battle when they infiltrate the Land of Woe seeking to rescue Toto. Mr. Lunt plays Ahem, a Gollum-like character who used the Bean to enable his life of ease before it fell out of his possession. Other characters include the Elders, ent-like creatures whose deep-voiced leader engages in a long-winded set of greetings with Randalf, and a very random yet useful unicycle-riding chap who clearly is a reference to poor maligned Tom Bombadil.

One character I could have done without was Akmetha. She’s almost certainly the most annoying character in the Veggie canon, having made her first appearance in Esther singing a dreadful rendition of a song about puppies. Silly Songs With Elves gives us the nod to Aragorn and Arwen’s romance that I thought might occur, but I expected the Elven beauty to be portrayed by Petunia, who has been Larry’s romantic interest in the past two videos. Instead we have Akmetha, looking batty as ever and especially irate, spewing some high-pitched, quick form of speech that sounds nothing like Elvish and which translates as broken English. I thought Elves were supposed to be superior beings! So she got on my nerves a bit, but I loved Larry’s part of the song, in which he croons about his love in the style of Elvis (with regalia to match), so I can live with her brief appearances. The other songs are well done. All those performed by individuals are a capella style except one, which features the jarring instrumentals of an accordion. Randalf’s explanation of the Beans of Power is deep and resonant with just a touch of Gospel flavor, while Junior’s is typically soft and sweet and sounds a bit like his Robin Hood song from Minnesota Cuke. The latter is reprised later with the ensemble, sounding joyful instead of querulous.

There are dozens of little references to Lord of the Rings, and when it comes out for real on November 1, this is one DVD whose special features I will be examining closely. There seem to be a few tiny discrepancies, though Vischer probably just stuck them in there to add to the silliness. For instance, Randalf tells Billboy there are many Beans of Power and that they should not be used lightly. Obviously this is almost exactly what Gandalf said to Bilbo, so it makes sense, but later Randalf seems to tell Toto that his is the only remaining Bean. Well, maybe if he’d said there were many Beans; perhaps the intimation is that there would be Many beans if the previous owners had used them properly. In most instances where I saw something askew, another character mentioned it just after I questioned it. Larry rides a unicycle, and Bob and I wonder how he can accomplish it without legs. Randalf reads a small inscription over a door (referencing both the entrance to Moria and Riddles in the Dark) that encompasses several lines of poetry, and Leg-o-Lamb and I both question how so few runes can translate to so many words. So I suppose these are less discrepancies than poking gentle fun at certain aspects of Tolkien’s world.

Veggietales often puts special effort into the credits, and here they are graced with artistic renderings of scenes, much like those found at the conclusion of Return of the King. There’s also a new song by Wynonna entitled It’s About Love, which my mom really liked, though I couldn’t get into it – maybe because I was hoping for something with more of a Celtic flavor to it. Nonetheless, it goes well with the idea that we are given gifts that will help us to help others. So Toto may not be eradicating evil, but he’s spreading love one good deed at a time, and we’re left with the impression that if we each do the same, our small contributions can make the world a considerably better place. Like the Bean, which by all appearances is ordinary and insignificant, we may have gifts that are not obvious, but that doesn't mean they aren't there. We just may have to do some searching. Though Lord of the Rings fans will find this video funnier than those who are unfamiliar with the source material, its message is equally accessible to everyone, and it’s one well worth hearing. So three cheers for hobbits and flobbits!

Muggles Muddle Magical Masterpiece in First Harry Potter Movie

Back in the fall of 2001, once I had recovered enough from 9/11 to think about other things again, my mind was occupied largely with one topic: the upcoming first installment of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, as filmed by Peter Jackson. I had to wait until December for it, and as it turned out the holiday season was so busy that I didn’t see it until early January. But something else came along to stave off my appetite for that long-awaited adaptation. That something was Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.

Of course, I’d only first met the bespectacled boy with the ordinary name and extraordinary fate a few years earlier; I didn’t have the history with him that I had with steadfast Sam Gamgee or industrious Bilbo Baggins. But the movie was still cause for excitement. Did it live up to its promises? I’m still trying to decide. I don’t have as much invested in Rowling as in Tolkien, but her vision is still more than worthy of being translated into high-quality cinema. The film was certainly a commercial success, but in comparison with Fellowship of the Ring, I would say that it falls considerably short.

The movie begins outside the home of the Dursleys, where a very special delivery is about to arrive. In the space of a few moments, we meet the infant Harry and three magical folk who will eventually play a large role in his life. For the time being, however, he is entrusted to the care of his thoroughly unpleasant relatives: overbearing Uncle Vernon (Richard Griffiths), sniveling Aunt Petunia (Fiona Shaw) and their spoiled son Dudley (Harry Melling). This is where we find Harry (Daneil Radcliffe) ten years later, cowering in a closet and waiting on his reluctant caregivers like a modern-day version of Cinderella. But in this case, it is not an invitation to a ball that has the mistreated youth in a tizzy. It’s an invitation to a school, an invitation to an entirely different way of life. But the Dursleys are even more unwilling to facilitate those dreams than that notorious stepmother. This introductory segment is handled well, though there’s an odd quality to the cinematography that I can’t pin down. I guess it reminds me of the Brit-coms I watch on PBS now and again; something about it just doesn’t seem quite movie-like. Still, we get just as much of the Dursleys as we need, including the beautifully done assault upon the house by a fleet of Hogwarts owls. Even better is the eventual appearance of Hagrid (Robbie Coltrane), my favorite character. He makes a big impression at once, and he soon earns Harry’s trust and our affection. Harry’s scenes with Hagrid before he heads off for the Hogwarts Express are perhaps my favorite in the film.

The trouble is, from that point on, everything has a rushed, glossed-over quality to it. We meet Mrs. Weasley (Julie Walters) and her clan, but she only has a couple lines of dialogue in which to establish herself as a significant maternal presence in Harry’s life. Ginny (Bonnie Wright), meanwhile, seems supremely superfluous, standing shyly next to her mother and uttering a mere two words: "Good luck." If that’s all they were going to give her to do, why’d they bother casting her at all? Might as well have just waited until the next movie. Percy (Chris Rankin) gets to strut around campus looking superior and even bark out a couple orders, but Fred and George (James and Oliver Phelps) are tragically underused. They barely fare better than Ginny, which is a darn shame given their immense potential for comic relief. Ron (Rupert Grint) does get a lot of screen time in, of course, and he’s adorable but he’s also slightly pointless most of the time. His dialogue is the worst in the movie; he’s always making useless asides and exclamations as random and irritating as those uttered by Sunny in the film Series of Unfortunate Events. His character is not satisfactorily developed.

Hermione Granger (Emma Watson) at least serves a more practical purpose in the film. She’s a marvelous expository tool; if you ever want to explain something quickly, just have Hermione pipe up and say she’s read something about it. Even at this early stage of the game, there’s an interesting tension shaping up between her and Ron that will become amplified in later installments. Watson plays Hermione as a snotty know-it-all but softens up her performance by the end. She’s probably the character who undergoes the most noticeable change in personality. Several other students stand out in some way, among them disaster-prone Neville Longbottom (Matthew Lewis); Dean Thomas (Alfred Enoch), practically the only dark face among a sea of pasty Brits; loud-mouth Quidditch announcer Lee Jordan (Luke Youngblood); and Irish lad Seamus Finnegan (Devon Murray), whose marble-mouthed manner of speaking annoys me immensely. By far the most notable student, however, is Draco Malfoy (Tom Felton), a sneering, self-important purebred Slytherin who quickly establishes himself as Harry’s pint-sized nemesis. Felton certainly has that obnoxiousness down to a tea, also revealing Malfoy’s cowardice in the scene where they must venture out into the Forbidden Forest.

While many of the child actors have no prior acting experience, the bulk of the adult cast consists of screen legends from the British Isles. There’s so much talent amassed here that it’s a great pity the adults are not used more. Richard Harris puts in an appearance as quirky headmaster Albus Dumbledore, but the only indication of his wit that remains is his disappointing attempt at finding a satisfactory jelly bean. It seems to me that several of his funniest lines from the book could have made it into the film; as it is, he comes across as something between mournful and simply dull. What a shame that in two of his final movies, Harris was given so little to do. Maggie Smith’s Minerva McGonagall is only slightly less strict than her mother superior in Sister Act. She’s a professor to be feared, but she is a reasonable woman and a valuable ally to have. Incidentally, Smith has a distinct Scottish brogue here, which helps this character to stand out from other authoritarian roles she’s assumed. We see more of her and Hagrid than we do of Dumbledore, but it’s still less than I would like.

By far the most intriguing character is Severus Snape (Alan Rickman), who remains awash in ambiguity even five books later. This loathed teacher gives Harry a concrete enemy far more threatening than Malfoy, and though his presence is a bit of a red herring, we’re not entirely sure by the end of the film that Harry’s suspicions were misplaced. Rickman is one of my favorite actors, so I’m not surprised he managed to make the most of his moments on the screen. Snape is silkily sinister, the sort of teacher every student dreads, and Rickman gives him such a commanding presence that I spend most of the movie in anticipation of his scenes, much as I do with Agent Smith in The Matrix. The guy is good.

What isn’t good is the fact that the adaptation tries so hard to be faithful to the letter of the book that it winds up being unfaithful to the spirit. A whole lot of stuff happens, and it’s pretty close to the text, but we don’t really know why it’s going on, nor do we care as much as we should. The pivotal background information and context is glossed over, leaving those unfamiliar with the books confused. Moreover, all this action leaves little room for character development, so none of the characters are realized as fully as they should be. There’s room for that in the sequels, of course, but if I had come into the film unfamiliar with the characters I would feel little of the sense of closeness with them at the conclusion that I felt upon finishing the first book. I don’t agree with all the decisions Peter Jackson made in his adaptation of Tolkien’s masterpiece, but in order to translate a book of that magnitude to the screen, he rightly realized that significant alterations had to be made. Screenplay writer Steven Kloves should have had that degree of faith in himself rather than fearing the wrath of devoted fans for not sticking strictly to the book.

The look of the film is magnificent once we step out of the commonplace world of Muggles and into the wizarding community. The noble educational institution of Hogwarts is especially impressive with its gothic archways, shifting staircases and walls full of paintings whose subjects wander about and talk freely amongst themselves. Some of the effects, however, come across as silly rather than splendid. The whole encounter with the troll in the girls’ bathroom, for instance, is a bit phony-looking, and the gross-out conclusion of the skirmish is accentuated so as to delight younger audience members. I can’t complain about the score, provided by veteran composer John Williams of Star Wars fame. Word has it that Peter Jackson wanted Williams to do the music for Lord of the Rings but that the composer was already committed to this project. I suspect that was for the best on all accounts, as I can’t imagine a better LotR score than Howard Shore’s or a better Harry Potter score than Williams’. It strikes just the right balance between eerie and fanciful, capturing the wonder and terror inherent in Harry’s strange new world.

All in all, it’s a good start, but it needs work. I guess you can think of this film as a practice run for the Harry Potter adaptation team. The biggest problem is with the screenplay, and that’s the easiest area in which to make changes. So far, it seems the second and third films have done a better job with characterization, but there’s still plenty of room for improvement. Let’s hope Goblet of Fire is the best yet!

Whoopi Robes Up Again for a More than Satisfactory Sequel

Shortly before I went into sixth grade, my mom and I went school shopping. We made a day of it, with lunch at Chuck E. Cheese’s and then a movie. As I recall, our intention was to see Three Ninjas, but the showing was sold out, so we examined our options, and I suggested Sister Act. Mom was dubious; she didn’t know much about it, and she suspected I might find it boring. But we gave it a shot, and rarely have I found a movie so engaging and entertaining. Just a year later, a sequel arrived. There’s always something lost with a sequel; much of the power of surprise is gone. You basically know what to expect at this point. A first film may sweep you away, but a sequel rarely will. Sister Act 2 failed to enthrall me the way the first did, but as sequels go, it was incredibly well done in spite of the similarities in plot to its predecessor.

The beginning of this movie finds Delores van Cartier (Whoopi Goldberg) enjoying greater success as a lounge singer than ever before, thanks to her unlikely star-making stint as choir director for a fleet of cloistered nuns. Her habited buddies, Sisters Mary Robert (Wendy Makkena), Patrick (Kathy Najimy) and Lazarus (Mary Wickes), corner her after one of her shows and entreat her to return with them to their current residence, a parish in charge of St. Francis Academy, a school catering to inner city students. A now gentler Mother Superior (Maggie Smith) greets her upon her arrival and begs her to join the teaching staff as a music instructor, to which Delores reluctantly agrees. Once again she must go in cognito in order to deceive the school administrators, but this task isn’t so difficult now that most of her friends know who and what she really is.

The basic plotline is very similar to the first, though there’s far less at stake for Delores this time around, and the tensions between her and school principal Father Maurice (Barnard Hughes) and superintendent Mr. Crisp (James Cogburn) are nothing compared to the frosty relationship she enjoyed with Mother Superior in the first film. Delores has changed, so her motivations are different in this film, and her character doesn’t have much room to evolve. But once again she finds herself in a position to save a struggling organization by taking a ragtag group and turning them into a world-class choir.

Personally, I identify more with nuns than rowdy teens, so I preferred when the focus was on the Sisters. Delores had a difficult task in whipping them into shape, but they were ready and willing to participate. The complications arose much more from Mother Superior’s disapproval than the nuns themselves. Here, Delores’ first job is to command her students’ respect, and it’s not easy. Once she does, though, she still has her work cut out for her in teaching them how to work together and believe in themselves. Several students stand out: “Amahl,” (Ryan Toby) who is extremely passionate about his African heritage and who overcomes his timidity with an exhilarating solo much as Sister Mary Robert did in the first film; “Sketch,” (Ron Johnson) a gentle soul who is a talented artist but who always sleeps through class due to long hours working after school; and “Frankie,” (Devin Kamin) a wannabe rapper with his own theme song. Most prominent, however, is Rita (Lauryn Hill), who possesses an extraordinary voice but has a crummy attitude fostered by her mother (Sheryl Lee Ralph), who refuses to foster her daughter’s dreams of singing professionally. Her mother comes across as a bit too severe here, ordering her to quit the choir because “singing does not put food on the table;” after all, it doesn’t take food off the table, either. In fact, Rita seems to have been completely uninterested in school up to this point, but the choir provides her with motivation. I would think a mother would be more supportive of her daughter’s talent, but I guess she’s just seen how hard it is to bring such dreams to fruition and doesn’t want Rita getting hurt.

When Father Maurice announces that the school will be closing at the end of the year, the students rally under the nuns’ enthusiastic suggestion that they enter the singing contest that this academy has won in years past. Their efforts are complicated by Father Maurice’s caution and near-sabotage by dour Mr. Crisp, who stands to gain quite a bit from the destruction of the school. The last-minute efforts to thwart those plans are an amusing side-plot involving the monks who also teach at the school. They don’t have quite as much to do as the nuns, but these men add a lot to the film. I especially like curmudgeonly Latin teacher Brother Thomas (Brad Sullivan), Mary Lazarus’ counterpart, and gentle, gregarious math teacher Brother Ignatius (Michael Jeter), who combines the best qualities of Mary Patrick and Mary Robert.

The ending is fairly predictable, but the kids’ grand musical number is impressive nonetheless. I can’t help but recall The Sound of Music while watching the musical competition, and I’m happy to embrace any film that makes me think of that classic, which may qualify as my all-time favorite. Of course, it also reminds me of Sister Act. In the end, this sequel is not quite as funny, creative, or surprising as that was, but it comes awfully close.

Mary Martin and Company Fly Where Disney Falls

When I entered my sophomore year of high school, I quickly heard the news that a spring musical had already been chosen and that the musical in question was Peter Pan. Now, I wasn’t exactly an active member of the theater department. I’d desperately wanted to be in The Sound of Music, but alas! That didn’t happen. But I was sure I could correct whatever mistakes I made the first time around to prevent me from winning a part in my favorite musical. I would be in Peter Pan, and that would be almost as good. Most of the theater folks did not seem to share my enthusiasm. I heard comment after comment about what a lame show we were staging, and I wondered why these students were bothering to try out if they hated the play so much. But such is theater, I guess. You soldier on, no matter how little regard you have for the material itself. But I geared up.

I very much wanted to sing I’ve Gotta Crow, but I couldn’t find the accompaniment for the song anywhere. I wound up with Distant Melody, coupled with the monologue in which Tinkerbell drinks Peter’s medicine. The song went okay, but I’m sure I would’ve garnered more attention with the song I wanted. The monologue was decent, but they cut me off before the end, so I didn’t even get to crow there. I really had hoped to show off my rooster imitating skills. Nonetheless, it seemed a good sign when I was called into the other room for a dance audition. That hadn’t happened the year before. Unfortunately, a few minutes of trying to keep up with the hand-clapping in Ugg-a-Wugg convinced both me and the dance director that I did not possess sufficient coordination for such a venture, and thus ended my foray into musical theater. Sniff. So I can’t help but feel a tinge of regret when I watch the film version of the Broadway production starring Mary Martin and Cyril Ritchard. These days, the possibility of my being in a musical seems about as distant as the possibility of being able to fly (which, by the way, is the superpower I would choose above all others). Nonetheless, it remains one of my favorite musicals.

No doubt, there’s some weird stuff going on here, with Peter Pan played by a gal (a woman in her 40s, no less); Wendy played by the same actress who plays her daughter Jane, indicating that ultimately the two girls are the same to Peter; and Wendy’s uptight father played by the same actor who portrays Captain Hook. Ritchard stands as a sort of metaphor for adults and adulthood in general, the implication being that they are always on hand to attempt to ruin everyone’s fun, and there’s no escaping them even in Neverland. Mr. Darling reminds me of Mr. Banks in Mary Poppins. Both men try to keep a tight rein on their household, but in reality they have no control over their children at all, and a supernatural visitor is required in order for the father to attain a healthy relationship with his offspring. In this case, however, Wendy (Maureen Bailey) is the fussbudget and the one who eventually does the leaving, much to Peter’s dismay.

Mary Martin has a grand old time playing Peter, though it’s hard to forget entirely that she’s a woman. Her Peter is bright and energetic, and oh the joy whenever he takes flight! Wendy, by contrast, is far too concerned with adult matters, and we soon realize that she’s almost too old as it is to venture into Neverland. Her relationship with Peter is complicated by their differing perspectives. Peter has been a boy for years and years, and the only role he can imagine Wendy in is that of his mother. He is perplexed and even repulsed when realization dawns that she may be more interested in a romantic relationship. Wendy’s siblings, intellectual John (Joey Trent) and cuddly Michael (Kent Fletcher), quickly assimilate into the Lost Boys, but Wendy’s place in the group is unique – and threatened by the Indian princess Tiger Lily (Sondra Lee), who competes for Peter’s affections. A trace of that tension comes across in Ugg-a-Wugg, the complicated gesture of friendship between Tiger Lily’s tribe and Peter’s. This scene is pivotal in that Peter and Tiger Lily had been enemies up until this time, but now they’ve come to the realization that they must unite against a common foe: adulthood (Captain Hook, but also the unwanted advances of Wendy).

To my mind, the most entertaining character in the whole bunch is the slightly flamboyant, overdramatic Captain Hook, who insists upon striking up the band every time he makes an announcement, who embarrasses himself by developing a crush on a woman who turns out to be Peter in disguise (a woman playing a boy playing a woman!), who bonks his faithful servant Smee (Joe E. Marks) on the head whenever the mood hits him. His songs plotting the demise of Peter and his friends are deliciously devious, backed by the silly instrumentation provided by his devout band of pirates, while his flirtatious back-and-forth with Peter in Oh, My Mysterious Lady is priceless. That’s not to say that Peter doesn’t have delightful musical numbers all his own. In fact, most of the songs star him, from the delightfully cocky I Gotta Crow and the joyful I’m Flying to the boisterous Wendy and I Won’t Grow Up, which exemplifies the author’s driving point that childhood is far preferable to the drudgery of adult life.

Because this is about as direct an adaptation as you’re likely to see of a Broadway show, some of the elements come across as rather cheesy to an audience used to sophisticated special effects. The fly lines are often visible. The nonhuman residents of Neverland are people dressed in strange costumes; the dog responsible for babysitting Wendy and her brothers is also a person is a costume, which has to have been incredibly uncomfortable. Tinkerbell is indicated only by a flashlight and a bell, though I have to admit this is a pretty cool effect, and as she is my least favorite character I’m happy to see and hear as little of her as possible. My school shelled out the big bucks to get a laser image of Tinkerbell to project whenever she was supposed to be on stage, but in this case I think simplicity is better, and it would have saved the theater department a nice chunk of change to stick with the flashlight. The sets are fairly sparse, leaving much to the imagination, though perhaps not as much as in Cinderella. The score is delightful to listen to, if not to play; my friends who were in the band that year just about keeled over trying to make sense of the complicated orchestrations, worsened by the fact that the sheet music was riddled with hand-written notes to the actors involved in the original production.

My dad finds Peter Pan annoying and bizarre, and I can see his point – especially when I watch the Disney version. But my affection for the fairy world J. M. Barrie created remains, especially as manifested in this masterful adaptation of the Broadway production. If I can’t live it and I can’t be in it, I’m happy at least to be able to watch it.

Never Before Has Neverland Seemed So Within Our Grasp

Last year, I watched Two Brothers and fell in love with Freddie Highmore, the English answer to Haley Joel Osment. I soon learned he was set to star with Johnny Depp in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, a prospect that pleased me very much. But in the meantime, there was another film starring the two to watch out for: Finding Neverland. I already was convinced of the superiority of the cast, but glowing reviews from friends and critics and an NPR program in which an expert on accents applauded Depp’s work in the film made me even more eager to see it. As too often occurs, I missed it in the theater, but I was all too happy to finally watch it when it came out on video.

I’ve always been a fan of Peter Pan – the general story if not every version – but over the course of several years, particularly in college, my information led me to believe that author J. M. Barrie was at best deluded, at worst a pedophile, and probably both. When I first heard of this movie, I thought it might be rather gritty and cynical. As it turned out, it was just the opposite. I don’t know which account to believe, but I certainly like this one better, and the idealist in me embraces it.

Depp stars as Scotland native Barrie, and I must say that he was awfully easy on the ear. I don’t mask my prejudices. There are few things in this world more beautiful than a Scottish accent. It’s the reason I fell in love with Billy Boyd; it’s the reason I started watching Craig Ferguson after Letterman every night. So even though Depp naturally has just a plain old American accent, I forget that in an instant here. Flawless. But there’s more to this performance than admirable command of a dialect. Depp portrays Barrie as a man rather like Michael Jackson (ironic given the abundant comparisons his role as Willy Wonka produced) but with none of the creepy oddball associations. The people around him may make those accusations, but we see him simply as a gentle man intimately in touch with his inner child and unable to mold himself to the conventions of polite society. Like John Denver, his life’s work and his charitable causes are of greater concern to him than his personal life, which has deep ramifications for his relationship with his wife (Radha Mitchell).

In Barrie’s case, the “charitable cause” that consumes him and troubles his wife is the family of Sylvia Llewelyn Davies (Kate Winslet), a recently widowed woman with a brood of four boys, three of whom (Joe Prospero, Nick Roud, Luke Spill) are energetic and imaginative. The odd one out is Peter (Highmore), who is deeply scarred by his father’s death and has little use for the falderal Barrie happily trots out for the boys’ benefit. Nonetheless, the author perseveres, encouraging Peter to write his own stories. Meanwhile, he is so inspired by his afternoon romps with the children that he recovers from a writing slump, writing what is destined to be by far his most popular play, though his producer (Dustin Hoffman) is overcome with worry that this exceedingly strange piece of theater will be a colossal flop. Hoffman remains an understated comic presence, and I can only assume he was asked to assume the role as a nod to his performance as Hook in the film of the same name. At the same time, Sylvia’s stern mother (Julie Christie) shows increasing disapproval of the playwright’s involvement with her daughter and grandchildren, particularly once Sylvia begins to display signs of a serious illness.

The look of this film is magical, suffused with dappled sunlight that almost invariably overpowers the shadows that linger on the periphery. The visions of Neverland are especially bright, and for fans of the story it’s exhilarating to feel as though we are watching the genesis of these beloved characters and events. Perhaps my favorite such moment is when Barrie observes the Davies children jumping on the bed and imagines them continuing upwards instead of falling back upon the soft mattress, flying out of the open window into a land where they will never grow older and never change. As much as he tries to preserve their innocence, he cannot shield them from harsh reality, but he can give them a gift: the power of story, latent within each of them, to unlock the magic so many weary souls have left behind and never attempted to reclaim.

Top-notch acting, superior cinematography, a gentle story and tender score all come together to create a masterpiece of which all its participants can be proud. Peter flies high once again, and he’s never before looked so much like one of us.